A Past Revealed
by Dreaming Of Forks
Summary: What if someone else could read Edward's mind in return? How might his mind reading ability be linked to his human past?
1. Preface

**Title: **A Past Revealed

**Author:** Dreaming of Forks

**Beta: Beta Needed - **The first few chapters that I have written on my own and I have edited the ferociously, but as writers we always seem to miss things. It would be nice to have another perspective on the plot as it develops. An experienced beta is preferred. I do expect that this will become fairly long.

**Disclaimer: **The Twilight Series, and all that encompasses it, is the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. I am just borrowing the characters and promise to give them back, but not after a little suffering of course. Any original characters are of my own creation, and are only added to support the movement of the storyline. I am not a big fan of Mary Sues anyway.

**Timeline: **This will pick up shortly after Twilight, during the summer before New Moon. I wanted to pick a time that was spoken of in the series and would not conflict with the events in New Moon. I can't guarantee that will not change as the story progresses, but I will try my best. Some spoilers for Eclipse and Breaking Dawn may also exist.

**Summary**: What if some else could hear Edwards thoughts? How does his mind reading ability connect to his human past? Beth Sutton, a seemingly average college student, might just get to find out, whether she likes it or not.

**Authors Note: **While reading the Twilight Saga, many questions have often formed in my head. Perhaps, I just have an eye for details, but sometimes my mind gets off on tangents, and stories like this are born. Edward always has the freedom to read others minds, except Bella, and see their deepest thoughts. What if the tables were turned, and someone else could read his mind? Or even interact with him through the channel of his mind? How might he react?

I started writing this story as a way to answer that, but also found that I had several questions about his past that are not necessary explored in the book. How did he come to possess his mother's wedding ring and pendent in Eclipse? (Vampires don't necessary inherit things by legal channels, since technically they no longer exist to their human friends and families) What might his relationship been like with his mother?

I have developed an original character for this story to reveal some things about Edward's past, and to force him to have to grow as a character. Bella and Alice will also play a role in the story, but may not show up until little later. The story is told through Beth's POV and Edward's POV.

While I have written fanfiction off and on for several years for my own entertainment, this is the first time that I have published any of it, and my first attempt at Twilight. I hope you enjoy it. Feedback of any kind is welcomed.

Preface

I slowly ascended the stairs, reluctant to start the task at hand. The attic of our old house had always given me the creeps as a kid, and it was doing much better for me now. Gran had been gone for nearly six weeks now, but her presence still lingered strongly for me everywhere I looked. I could barely enter the other rooms of the house I had shared with her, let alone even think about beginning the process of packing away her things. Reminders still lingered nearly everywhere, except for the old dusty hole I was about to enter. I'd rarely been up here in the time that I had lived with Gran, usually complaining about the smell or too scared to enter.

The top step protested under my weight, as I jiggled the key in the worn lock. After a few seconds, the old door swung open slowly with a loud groan, obviously from lack of use. Warm, stale air assaulted my senses, smelling strongly of moth balls, dust, and exposed wood.

I sneezed twice, wondering again why I was even up here.

Piles of boxes, unused furniture, and other forgotten items seemed to stretch endlessly, scattered throughout the large room. One small window, at the far end of the space, created just enough light to illuminate a small path that wound through the clutter.

I suspected that much of this stuff went back for generations, and was just inherited and discarded as the house had been passed down through the family. My grandmother had grown up in this house, and even raised my mother here. The Ryder family was proud of their heritage, and nothing had ever been thrown away by the older generations, in hope of keeping traditions alive and heirlooms treasured. Much of that changed though, when my parents had died suddenly in a car crash when I was eight. I had been sent to live with Gran, and been raised in this house myself the past twelve years of my life. She kept many of the family stories alive, telling them to me as a child, but left many of the items she had inherited up here to be forgotten. The items had become painful reminders of happier times, and life had moved on in a different direction for both of us, as the only members of the family still living in the area. Now, I was the only one that remained.

_Being a pack rat must run in the genes_. I laughed to myself sadly, trying to shake loose of the despairing thoughts. I sighed, and got to work, spreading out several boxes to survey their contents.

After nearly an hour, I stopped to access my progress. And, it wasn't much.

I glanced over towards the far side of the room, looking for more empty boxes for sorting. Sunshine filtered through the dirty pane of the window, as my eye caught a flash of something gold low to the floor.

_Wonder what that is?_

I moved closer to examine the source.

Under several large boxes, the corner of a large leather trunk trimmed in gold tacks peeked out near the floor. Two thick leather straps encircled its body, and hung loosely down the front, probably used for securing the lid during travel. The trunk appeared to be very old, and had obviously been long forgotten, as suggested by its buried state.

I shoved aside the large boxes stacked on top of the trunk and cleared a small area on the floor. Kneeling in the cleared space, I ran my hands lightly over the dusty lid, admiring the craftsmanship of this forgotten gem.

The trunk was made of fine dark brown leather with durable stitching. While I didn't know much about antiques, it had obviously been very expensive in its day, and probably been custom made for the owner. I couldn't help wondering how such a beautiful old trunk has ended up in the bowels of the attic, neglected.

Wanting in to investigate the mystery further, I slide my hand down over the latch mounted on the center of the lid. I was just about to lift the top to peek inside, when I noticed a raised area of lettering, obscured by years of grim. I brushed the area clean, revealing a finely embroidered monograph.

"E...A...M", I read aloud to myself, pondering its significance in my own memories. I came up short.

_Who is E.A.M? How are they connected Gran? And how the heck did this dusty thing end up here?_

Curiosity had gotten the best of me, and I absolutely had to see what was in the trunk. I slowly lifted the lid, surprised that it had not been locked. Dusty air swirled around me, and I sneezed again and shook my head to clear my nasal passage.

I looked down into the trunk and found myself transported to nearly one hundred years in the past.

The inside was lined with a heavy satin in a worn pale blue and a faded mirror was mounted inside the lid. Several high necked dresses in varied fabrics and rich colors were neatly folded at the bottom. I loved watching period films and often paid special attention to the styles of the time. I guessed that these were probably from the near the turn of the century, but too simplified to be of the Victorian era.

A stack of bound letters lay on top of the dresses and other folded clothing, but was half tucked under a burgundy velvet hat with feathers arranged along the small brim. Moving the hat aside for a better look, I also found a small silver brush and mirror set nestled in a velvet cloth. Next to the mirror was a small jewelry box. I picked up the brush and flipped it over gently in my hand to admire the raised flowers and leaves imprinted on the return side. The mirror also had the same detailing around its frame and on the back. I then picked up the jewelry box, and slide the top open. Inside the box, nested in velvet was one of the most beautiful rings I had ever seen, and a large crystal pendent.

_Wow, this is amazing. Too beautiful to just be forgotten like this. Such a shame!_

Wanting to find more information about the owner, I closed the box and placed the items on the floor beside me. I reached for the stack of letters and set them in my lap. I then untied the delicate red ribbon that had been used to bind them together. As I lifted the first letter and opened it, a faded black and white photograph fluttered from the inside and onto the floor.

Surprised, I picked up the photograph and examined it more closely. It appeared to be a snapshot of a family, as three faces stared back at me from the past. They posed in from of a large brownstone house. Snow covered the sidewalk where they stood, and they were dressed warmly in heavy winter apparel. The tall man, probably the father, was dress in a three-piece suit covered by a long overcoat. A fedora hat sat atop his dark wavy hair, as he posed proudly with a reserved smile.

_Definitely, one of those proud rich guys,_I thought to myself, knowing that some of Gran's family had been rather prominent in the Chicago area when she was growing up. _Maybe a lawyer or a banker._

The woman was elegant looking, but smiled happily in such a way that highlighted her apparent beauty. She looked happier and more friendly than her husband. She wore a long skirt that came to the top of her heeled boots, and a high lace neckline that peeked from behind the lapel of her overcoat. The coat looked to be wool, and was cinched high on her waist, covering most of her outfit. Her light hair was swept into an elegant up-do adorned with the velvet hat that I recognized from the trunk. A fur stole was tied around her slender shoulders, and one of her hands was tucked into a matching muff at her waist. Her other hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage boy who stood in front of her. The boy looked to be about fifteen or sixteen. Like his mother, his hair was lighter than his father's and he smiled back at me with a lopsided grin, which made him seem more attractive. Like his father, he wore a dark charcoal suit covered by a heavy overcoat, and a wool cap on his head.

_Who are they? I don't recognize any of them from pictures that are mounted in the main stairway or the living room. The women and the boy look so happy. Pretty good looking, too._

I turned over the picture, and read the inscription on the back.

"Edward and Elizabeth Masen, with their son, Edward Anthony Masen. Christmas 1916. Chicago, Illinois."


	2. Chapter 1

**Title: **A Past Revealed

**Author:** Dreaming of Forks

**Beta: Beta Needed - **The first few chapters that I have written on my own and I have edited the ferociously, but as writers we always seem to miss things. Would also be nice to have another perspective on the plot as it develops. An experienced beta is preferred. I do expect that this will become fairly long.

**Disclaimer: **The Twilight Series, and all that encompasses it, is the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. I am just borrowing the characters and promise to give them back, but not after a little suffering of course. Any original characters are of my own creation, and are only added to support the movement of the storyline. I am not a big fan of Mary Sues anyway.

**Timeline: **This will pick up shortly after Twilight, during the summer before New Moon. I wanted to pick a time that was spoken of in the series and would not conflict with the events in New Moon. I can't guarantee that will not change as the story progresses, but I will try my best. Some spoilers for Eclipse and Breaking Dawn may also exist.

**Summary**: What if some else could hear Edwards thoughts? How does his mind reading ability connect to his human past? Beth Sutton, a seemingly average college student, might just get to find out, whether she likes it or not.

**Authors Note: **While reading the Twilight Saga, many questions have often formed in my head. Perhaps, I just have an eye for details, but sometimes my mind gets off on tangents, and stories like this are born. Edward always has the freedom to read others minds, except Bella, and see their deepest thoughts. What if the tables were turned, and someone else could read his mind? Or even interact with him through the channel of his mind? How might he react?

I started writing this story as a way to answer that, but also found that I had several questions about his past that are not necessary explored in the book. How did he come to possess his mother's wedding ring and pendent in Eclipse? (Vampires don't necessary inherit things by legal channels, since technically they no longer exist to their human friends and families) What might his relationship been like with his mother?

I have developed an original character for this story to reveal some things about Edward's past, and to force him to have to grow as a character. Bella and Alice will also play a role in the story, but may not show up until little later. The story is told through Beth's POV and Edward's POV.

While I have written fanfiction off and on for several years for my own entertainment, this is the first time that I have published any of it, and my first attempt at Twilight. I hope you enjoy it. Feedback of any kind is welcomed.

Chapter One

The small plane I had taken from Seattle started its final decent into Port Angeles, Washington, a little after four in the afternoon. I looked out the window at sheeting rain over the bay. Grey storm clouds pressed down from the sky, making it look almost like dusk. I patted the raincoat that lay across my lap, satisfied with my preparation. This was my first visit to the Olympic Peninsula of Northwest Washington State, but even I knew of the region's infamous reputation for gloomy skies and never-ending rain. Even in June.

Several tourists seated around grumbled about the weather and the potential implications for their vacation plans. But I smiled to myself, secretly welcoming it.

I felt the wheels of the small aircraft make contact with the ground, officially announcing our arrival. The plane taxied into one of the small gates, and the engines shut down with a shutter. Passengers began moving about the small cabin to claim their belongings, as the one flight attendant opened the door. I pulled on my raincoat, grabbing my purse and suitcase from the overhead compartment, and made my way to the front of the plane. Pulling my hood up over my head, I entered into the rain and quickly clambered down the rollaway stairs toward the gate. This airport was far too small to have enclosed ramps like the other airports I had visited on my journey here from Grand Rapids.

Once in the small terminal, I made my way to the counter to pick up the keys for my rental car, slightly dreading what might be on the receiving end of that key. In an effort to keep my budget minimal, I settled for the economy rental.

I signed the paperwork and grabbed the keys from the clerk, before re-entering into the rain to search the parking lot for the correct numbered space to match my key. I soon found that I had been given a small white Hyundai hatchback, barely big enough to be considered an automobile.

_The damn thing looks like an egg lying on its side with wheels. It sure is a far cry from my Mazda 6, but I guess it will just have to do._

After loading my suitcase into the tiny hatch, I sat down in the front seat and pulled out the map I had bought to check the quickest route to the highway. In earlier days, I might have been excited to spend several days in this quaint little tourist town -- exploring the shops by the bay or taking a day trip to Victoria.

Today, I just wanted to get as far away from the noisy tourists and find some peace in the surrounding wilderness. For some reason, I couldn't help feeling like their excitement and banter, somehow echoed in my head, like a scurry of insects in the walls of house. It was giving me a strange headache for some reason, even though this had never really happened before when I was around lots of people.

_Strange! Probably just the long hours on the plane and the early wake up to get the airport this morning. _Dismissing the strange feeling, I started the car and eased it out into traffic.

When I found Highway 101, I turned left and headed west towards the Olympic National Park and the small town of Forks, identified by a small green sign on the roadside. This was where I had made my hotel reservation tonight, and I hoped that there was a least a small restaurant in town where I could grab some dinner later.

As I drove on, the houses and businesses gave way to high vertical slopes covered with towering evergreens and creeping ferns. The slopes towered on each side of the road, creating a tunnel of dark green under the thick cloud bank. Rain still sprinkled on the windshield, but seemed to have slowed since leaving the airport. Every few miles, the slopes lowered to the valley floor allowing occasion views of the snow-capped Olympic peaks to the south. The view was amazing, but my mind began to wander towards the events of the past few months of my life and the circumstances that had brought me to this place.

*****

It was the last week of March and end of spring break at school. I was in a hurry to return to my dorm at Cornerstone University, about an hour drive from my hometown, Greenville, Michigan. A distant suburb of Grand Rapids.

I had come home to visit Gran for the week and catch up with old friends from high school.

I have lived with my grandmother, Beatrice Ryder, or just "Bea" to the residents of our small town, since I was eight. My parents died in a car crash when I was young, and Gran had since served as my parent, guardian and best friend. I don't remember as much about parents as I wish I could, but I always keep a picture of them tucked in my wallet as a reminder. This has always been the best way I felt I could keep them with me and remember the few memories that I still have of them in my early childhood. So much has faded with time.

My parents were moderately wealthy, and had arranged for me to have a small trust fund to pay for college and other expenses when I turned eighteen. Their death has often been marked as the town tragedy, and some folks still see me as the orphaned victim, even at nearly twenty. "Poor Beth", I would often hear from family friends and neighbors who knew my grandmother while growing. They never said it to me directly, but I would always hear is muttered softly when I passed or in hushed conversations. Others in town had given up the sympathy act a long time ago, labeling as just another privileged brat with an easy pass to college.

Indifferent to either extreme, I just tried to work to do my best and be true to myself, with bigger plans in the world that would take me far from the little town that I often found boring. Since I could remember, I had always wanted to study photography and travel the world documenting nature.

I was running late that day, and stopped off quickly to give Gran a quick hug to say goodbye. I had dinner plans with my roommate, Jenna, and needed to get back to campus for an early class the next morning. When I arrived on campus and rushed into our modest dorm, Jenna sat impatiently at the bottom of the steps that let up to our floor.

"Where have you been?" she exclaimed.

"I am so sorry I'm late. I got a late start back and lost track of time this afternoon". I started to tell her about the afternoon I had spent with friends at the beach, but she interrupted me.

"You received a phone about twenty minutes ago", she started. "...it was from the Sheriff's office."

I stopped talking noticing the urgency in her voice, and examined her blanched complexion.

"Something has happened. They need you to call them back as soon as possible", she continued grimly.

"The Sherriff?" I questioned, watching her worried expression deepen. "Did he say what it was about...?"

"Not directly. But he did say that was very important for you to call him back tonight when you arrived home. I wrote down his name and number", she added, handing me a piece of paper.

Panic began to creep into the back of my mind as I took the piece of paper from Jenna. I dialed the number on my cell phone, having no idea that my life was about to change forever.

To this day, I don't remember the exact dialogue of that conversation. Numbness had taken over almost immediately; I functioned in a state of it for several weeks afterwards. Gran had collapsed in the backyard near the garden and been found by one of the neighbors. She has been the victim of a massive stroke and died several hours later. As the only living and immediate family, I was left to largely plan her funeral and memorial service on my own. In the following weeks, I was an amiable host to concerned neighbors and friends, and even returned to school to finish up my sophomore year. I was functioning on the outside, but merely an empty shell on the inside. It wasn't until I returned home from finals for the summer in the middle May to an empty house of memories, that I started to feel again and even cry. I shut myself away in the house for nearly three weeks, before I finally decided that life had to go on, whether I wanted it to or not. I finally started cleaning out the house during Memorial Day weekend, and decided that I needed to get away. Anyway. It was then that I read an online article about the Olympic National Park and the Pacific Northwest, and knew that this was the perfect place to get away, and start fresh with my dream as a nature photographer.

*****

My mind was suddenly rocketed back to reality when the horn of a semi-truck blasted from behind me. Startled, I jumped and looked up in the rearview mirror. I was met with the reflection of an angry grill of a logging truck nearly inches from the back of the car. It was so close that I could not see the driver, but I could only imagine his impatient expression.

Beginning to panic, I looked around frantically for a place to pull off. I spotted an upcoming opening in the guard rail for a turnout, and swerved the tiny car to the right. I almost lost control before coming to an abrupt stop in the dirt about a foot from the rail. The truck sped, shaking the tiny car in its wake. I sat there, frozen with fear, for several seconds while my heartbeat returned to normal.

"What the _hell_ was that?" I screamed to the silence. "That guy must be _crazy_!"

_The speed limit on the highway was marked at 55 mph. That guy had to be doing at least seventy or more. _

Back home, I was well known for being a bit of a speed demon myself, but event I was not crazy enough to take the curving mountain roads of this highway at any more than the posted limit.

After several minutes, I eased the car carefully back onto the highway and continued on to my destination. And with a greater awareness of what might be bearing down behind me.


	3. Chapter 2

**Title: **A Past Revealed

**Author:** Dreaming of Forks

**Beta: Beta Needed - **The first few chapters that I have written on my own and I have edited the ferociously, but as writers we always seem to miss things. Would also be nice to have another perspective on the plot as it develops. An experienced beta is preferred. I do expect that this will become fairly long.

**Disclaimer: **The Twilight Series, and all that encompasses it, is the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended. I am just borrowing the characters and promise to give them back, but not after a little suffering of course. Any original characters are of my own creation, and are only added to support the movement of the storyline. I am not a big fan of Mary Sues anyway.

**Timeline: **This will pick up shortly after Twilight, during the summer before New Moon. I wanted to pick a time that was spoken of in the series and would not conflict with the events in New Moon. I can't guarantee that will not change as the story progresses, but I will try my best. Some spoilers for Eclipse and Breaking Dawn may also exist.

**Summary**: What if some else could hear Edwards thoughts? How does his mind reading ability connect to his human past? Beth Sutton, a seemingly average college student, might just get to find out, whether she likes it or not.

**Authors Note: **While reading the Twilight Saga, many questions have often formed in my head. Perhaps, I just have an eye for details, but sometimes my mind gets off on tangents, and stories like this are born. Edward always has the freedom to read others minds, except Bella, and see their deepest thoughts. What if the tables were turned, and someone else could read his mind? Or even interact with him through the channel of his mind? How might he react?

I started writing this story as a way to answer that, but also found that I had several questions about his past that are not necessary explored in the book. How did he come to possess his mother's wedding ring and pendent in Eclipse? (Vampires don't necessary inherit things by legal channels, since technically they no longer exist to their human friends and families) What might his relationship been like with his mother?

I have developed an original character for this story to reveal some things about Edward's past, and to force him to have to grow as a character. Bella and Alice will also play a role in the story, but may not show up until little later. The story is told through Beth's POV and Edward's POV.

While I have written fanfiction off and on for several years for my own entertainment, this is the first time that I have published any of it, and my first attempt at Twilight. I hope you enjoy it. Feedback of any kind is welcomed.

Chapter Two

I open my eyelids meagerly, still lingering somewhere between sleep and consciousness. Snuggling down closer into the warm comforter, I looked about the room. A strange grey light filtered softly through vertical blinds and laid patterns across the bed. I was not in the familiar surroundings of my room at home.

My body stiffened, letting my mind work through the foggy layers to a more wakened state. The events of the past two days of travel began to come back to me; I remembered that I was two thousand miles away from home and the pain that had plagued my otherwise ordinary life for the past few months.

_I was in a hotel room in the small inconsequential town of Forks, Washington to be exact._

I relaxed at bit with my realization, and stretched out my legs under the warm covers, working out the effects of a long flight in cramped quarters. Rolling over, I glanced lazily at the clock on the small bedside table.

_5:04 AM._

I pulled the comforter over my head, groaning at the ungodly hour.

"So much for being able to sleep in on the West Coast" I muttered to myself.

I knew that I should try to go back to sleep, but it was already too late. My mind began to run away from me in with an endless stream of possibilities for the day. Adrenaline flowed through my limbs as I thought of my surroundings outside. Long dormant for the past few months, the flow of excitement was unfamiliar, but I welcomed it as it washed through me.

I made quick work of showering, dressing sensibility in a pair of blue jeans, a light cotton t-shirt and my hiking boots. Pulling my long reddish brown hair into a ponytail, I examined myself in the bathroom mirror. Green eyes stared back at me, studying their subject with intelligent intensity. My peachy complexion and unique hair color had always been the envy of others when I was in high school, but I had rarely cared. My friends often tried to encourage me to wear makeup and go shopping with them for trendy clothes, and sometimes I tried. After a few days though, I always returned to the familiar comforts of my t-shirts, jeans, and athletic shoes. There was just no point in being something that I wasn't.

_I was just a simple girl._

This had been one the more restful nights of sleep I had gotten in awhile, the benefits were evident. The faint circles that settled my eyes, almost permanently in the past months, looked like they were fading. Something about this region made me feel safe and protected. It was if the thick forests and mountains shielded me from the memories like the blankets that I had played under as a child.

After a few more minutes of aimless thought, I switched off the light and walked back in the main room. I grabbed a small backpack from the front compartment of my suitcase and packed my supplies for the day: a few bottles of water, a park map, granola bars, and a handheld GPS unit that I had purchased before leaving home. I had no idea how it worked, so I also grabbed the instruction manual at last minute, before zipping up the bag. Tying my raincoat around my waist, I grab the backpack, my camera bag, and the rental car keys, and headed out into the cool early morning air.

The parking lot was silent and empty. I looked up the sky, still overcast, but the rain had stopped sometime during the night. A thin layer of fog clouds floated hazily around the edges of the lot, shadowing the tall canopy of fir trees that surrounded it on two sides. It made everything look mysterious and enchanted. I loved it.

I climbed into the tiny car and deposited my belongings in the passenger seat. It started with a reluctant choke and came to life. Pulling out onto the main highway, I turned north making my way through the small downtown area of Forks, getting my first glimpse of the still sleeping town in the predawn light. Darkness had already fallen when I arrived last night.

I stopped at the one stoplight at the center of town, waiting for it to turn green. A humble row of two story storefronts lined the street one side, across from a small brick bank and flanked by a café. And a tiny post office stood further down the road from the bank. A single empty logging truck turned in front of me at the light, making its way to pick up the first load of the morning to the south. In it sleepy state and grand surroundings, this remote town could almost be considered quaint, but with little roughness around the edges. It was so distant and simple compared with the clash of the modern shopping strips and the rows of ornate Victorians in the historical districts of Greenville. This town was probably not very impressive to the average tourist who passed through here on their way the beautiful offering of the surrounding forests and beaches. But it was real and honest, openly representing the working class values and lifestyles of its citizens.

The light changed, I urged the car forward passing a few houses, the community park, and the only gas station. I soon crossed over the small suspension bridge spanning the Callawah River just outside the city limits. The houses gave way to soaring trunks of the spruces and hemlocks native the area. They towered over the roadway creating long wall of feathery green. Rows of clear cut from logging created brown ribbons up the sides of a small mountain in the distance.

A handful of miles passed before I came to the intersection of Route 110, marked with a brown National park sign directing visitors west to the beaches of La Push, or east towards the Sol Duc trailhead. I turned right and headed east towards the trailhead and the Olympic Mountains.

As I drove, the moss that webbed the trees began to grow thicker, draping the branches like green icicles. The ferns grew more aggressively here, covering the forest floor right up to asphalt.

The sun rose slowly behind the clouds casting an olivaceous light through the canopy and down on the roadway. The temperature still remained cool, but already showed signs of rising into the mid-sixties by early afternoon, if the sun came through the clouds.

Back home, many people would have considered the day waste, and elected to stay indoors to avoid the possibility of rain. But here, where it rained so often, I was willing to take my chances and venture on a hike, seduced by the strange quality of the light. The light here was magical – a photographer's dream. Capturing this type of light in its on film in its true glory was difficult, but this morning I was up to the challenge.

Taking in my surrounding fully, I stopped the car briefly to watch a small herd of elk make their way through the dense forest, foraging for food. I grabbed for my camera and snapped several pictures of them from the car window, before they disappeared back into the darkness.

Smiling to myself, I moved on, wondering what it must be like to have the freedom to roam this open wilderness with limited threats from man. Surely the elk might face the occasional hunt of a bear or mountain lion, but only by the choice of Mother Nature. Time seemed to stand still here, capturing a rare glimpse of the past when land was still untouched and wild. I sighed, thinking of the urban sprawl I witnessed so often back home in the suburbs of Grand Rapids. Here, that seemed so far away – maybe even another lifetime.

When I came to the end of the road, it narrowed into a small foot trail that lead off into the forest, disappearing a few hundred feet ahead in the low light.

I parked the car to the side of the road and cut the engine. I read from the time from the dashboard clock.

_6:17 A.M. _

Stepping out of the car, I took a moment to take in the silence of the forest around me. The trees were oddly still except for the occasional wind that caressed the very tops hundreds of feet about my head. The clouds were starting to lift away now and small beams of sunlight shown down making strange patterns on the ground. I grabbed the backpack and my camera, and headed towards the trailhead.

Darkness still hung in the thick labriynth of ancient trees, and my eyes had to adjust as I entered into the tree line. I started down the path at a leisurely pace. I could help looking up in amazement at the immense height of trees surrounding the trail. They seemed to stretch to the heavens, and were definitely taller than any I had seen before.

Lost in thought, I walked for quite awhile along the trail, before coming to a small clearing. Small animals rustled through the low brush moving along the forest floor, but I was blissfully alone. I sat down on a makeshift bench made from a fallen log, and pulled out my map. The bench was shadowed by the branches of a huge spruce and provided some shade from the bright sun that shown down in the clearing.

Suddenly, my vulnerable mind was assault by images and the broken sound of a male voice. Everything came so fast, nearly extending the capacity of what my head could contain. My head throbbed violently, and the map fell from my hands, forgotten. Images, emotions, and the horrific voice still flooded my mind as I doubled over in pain, my hands flying to my head, involuntarily trying to shield myself. I tried to stand, and take a few steps back to the car, but staggered and collapsed in a thicket of ferns. I curled into a fetal position trying to ward off the savage images that continued to assault my mind.

I could see the hunter's prospective as he staked his prey, lurking in the brush just out of sight. Bloodlust and hunger sang loudly in his thoughts. I watched in horror as he used his precise senses to calculate angle of his attack and then leaped inhumanly from his hiding spot to take down the large elk. I could see the blood pulsing transparently in the elk's neck, and then screamed when I could see the prospective grow closer, knowing that the hunter was going straight for the strongest area of blood. I could hear the beast within him screaming for satisfaction and the blood poured from the wounded animal.

My own thoughts were still there at the very back of my mind, but I had been so taken by the invasion that it took me several moments to relocate them. The pain was still nearly unbearable, but I tried to think. Adrenaline shot through my body, sensing the danger and pleading with my brain for instructions to react. My mind though, remained trapped by the torturous assault, unable to control my muscles to run.

_What was happening to me? _I screamed from within. _These were not my thoughts. They were the thoughts and actions of a savage – a killer. A monster! A monster in my head!_


End file.
